The War of Hearts and Hands
by Jirubee
Summary: A young twenty year old Ito InuYasha is enlisted into the Imperial Army in the throes of WWII, being forced to leave his life behind and find his new destiny. On the way he falls in love with a wrongfully accused prisoner of war, and is hunted for his treason and war crimes. M. The seduction of power leads to one's demise. Sexual content. Violence. Adult Themes.
1. Chapter 1

The War of Hearts and Hands

**Overview**

_Dai Nippon Teikoku refers to the Empire of Japan up until the reconstitution at the end of the Pacific War. It lasted from 1868 until 1947. The surrender came in 1945. _

_The phrase "Hakko ichiu" (Universal Brotherhood, All Eight Corners of the World) translates into either of these, depending on direct and romanization. _

_*Above information was gathered from Wikipedia_

_AN: ONCE AGAIN. NO BUSINESS POSTING NEW THINGS. Everything will be updated in the next week/week and a half as things calm down and break starts for my little one. Thanks to everyone that has reviewed my stories (any and all!) and given me such wonderful feedback. I hope that you enjoy this piece. I'm still hung upon on WWII and the conflict of war itself, so let me know what you guys think._

_This is kind of like a prologue of sorts. Kind of short, too. _

_Enjoy!_

_` Jiru_

Morning came like the wind after a storm, it was quiet, so very calm as the dawn drew its knowing blues and golds on the horizon. They peeked through window slats, peering with hazy eyes at the particles of dust that abounded in the air. It reached the time-tested full length mirror, in which had been his mother's.

There, in the ghostly light, he peered into the blackness of his pupils. He pulled at the collar on his newly pressed uniform. Everything seemed tight, constrained by the small buttons leading towards the folded points of his collar.

This was the day that his family, his country, his would be lover, would be proud. They had taken his head of hair and cut it to his scalp. He no longer looked like the man he had always been, or honorably noted in his long line of samurai blood. He looked like a man in the city, clean cut and ravaged by the inequities of Western influence and modern ways of life.

Yet, as he brushed a calloused hand through his short hair, he frowned at the hardlines drawing down his jawline. The scars from playfights and kendo had brandished his chin and lip with their taut reminders. He was but a man of twenty, barely ready to let go of the wayward kiss of childhood, which still clung to him longingly.

As it were, he had been enlisted to fight for his country and leave behind the humble home he had always known. The devastation in Hiroshima and Nagasaki were still pressed in every paper, every pole, every shanty shop in the small parish of Tama. It rested outside of Tokyo to the southwest and held its own woes.

He, the man still plucking at the bottoms of his trousers, and wriggling his toes in the binds of his boots, was stilled by the death of his mother and illed by the loss of his betrothed. She had been afflicted with tuberculosis some years prior in their teens, and his mother had passed of a Western disease.

The life of Ito InuYasha was troubled.

The Great Showa and called upon all able bodies to be a part of Dai Nippon Teikoku's _Hakko Ichu. _There was no say in the matter and he pressed on his best face as he let them transform him into _this_. The only recognizable attribute was the discoloration of his eyes. One hung like a golden ring on a finger, and the other as black as the center in which it sprouted.

Swallowing, he looked away at quiet bedroom around him. All of his belongings rested on the tatami, swallowed up by satchels and marked numeral bags. The train was coming to gather him and he needed to be off. Otherwise, his first crime would be committed.

Perhaps, he would fake his own death? No one would remember him, no one would recollect a thing about him. He had been privy to keeping himself reclusive since the passing of the great women of his life.

His father still breathed, commanding in the higher ranks of the Imperial Army, as did his brother. InuYasha quelled his shaken nerves as he knelt awkwardly to grab his baggage. He was good with swords, knives, and bows. Guns, however, he had never been fond of. It was a foreign concept to pull a trigger and blow off half of a person's body.

Perhaps he was being naive, as he lowered his eyes to the warped floorboards on his long walk out the door. Everything hung like relics in a museum. Nothing had been touched in days. The kettle still sat on the counter, and his table was still lingering for his bowls to be sat upon it.

As she slid his door open, he stared at the dewy grass, the winding thrush of trees spiraling into a floral array of color. They would be dead by his return, and his heart leapt into his throat at the Jizo statues lining the pathway to town.

The dirt came in plumes as rickshaw carts flew by and people patted their hands on aprons and swept out their dirtied shops. They were all rationed, and lines formed at each entrance with brochures of stamps in their hands. All the fine kimono were replaced by paper thin yukata, some donated Western clothing and bare feet on the damp ground.

InuYasha could barely breathe by the time he made it to the stony platform at the edge of town. A few other men stood with their unified hair cuts and variants of uniforms dotting his vision. One was navy, one white, the others matching his like they were reflective.

Most of the boys still held baby fat on their cheeks, and bristled with their bags as though they were weighted by the world. It was there they all stood, eye-balling one another, finding fit disposition to be lacking on almost all fronts.

Each man was getting used to the newness of each part of them. To InuYasha, it felt like being thrown into a fire and watching yourself dissolve into some semblance of what you were. Most of them seemed more proud than he did, and it made his stomach churn with dishonor.

Adjusting a bag on his shoulder, he caught the first sights of the steel chariot steaming down the bend. He hadn't been this nervous since he fell in love. Albeit, these were two totally different things. Love was a war of hearts and hands, this was all out warfare with guns and missles.

He'd like to think that he wasn't as ignorant as people made him out to be, but it was injuriously decided that he was just about as stiff as a board. He was just a boy from the sticks, as people thought, with no formal education and a knack for carving and sword making.

He wasn't _this. _

With a sigh, he glowered at the off-colored and bruised train cars as they jerked and cried against the rickety tracks. His identification papers were held in hand as he fell in line behind his shorter comrades.

The heat of the train crept around his ankles, making them sweat as they were checked in and boarded by a scrawny man in a white uniform and hat. The train itself was a mish-mosh of cars from various lines that had been shut down and scraps of steel. It was full, smelling of men and cologne on some. He was lucky enough to sit near a window near the middle of the cramped space, tucking his belongings between his feet and chair.

The countryside, his home, everything seemed so foreign behind the blurs of sanded glass. He couldn't make sense of anything else. He had known for a few weeks that this day was coming, but refrained from letting it absorb. He'd drank with his friend, the only one he had, and flirted awkwardly with the women around town in a half-hearted effort to make himself feel better.

He was plucked from the world he knew and had adjusted to for a chance at keeping his country afloat against anyone and everyone that threatened it. His family had all done it before and willingly enrolled. However, InuYasha cringed when the wheels began to crank and grind against the railing, washing away his view like a dizzying rain.

A man rushed on as the train was leaving, and took a spot beside him, hunkering down with a violent force. He knew him. He'd seen him on deliveries from the city and rolled his eyes. He was burly, more muscular, darker toned. The bastard even had a five-o'clock shadow that was surely going to get him some trouble.

Eagerly, the man nudged at InuYasha pulled a smoke out of his pack with his teeth. "You look like you need one. Go on, if you want." He said gruffly, flashing a devilish grin.

InuYasha licked his lips, furrowing his brows in a spoil of frowns. "I don't smoke." He cleared his throat, eying the pack as the man shrugged.

"Suit yourself, kid." He said, laying his arm over the back of the benched seats. "It's hell from here on out. May as well get used to it, you know?" He said quietly.

InuYasha brushed a hand through his phantom hair and stared vacantly at his hand. He never knew how much of his identity had been tied to its length. "What's your name?"

"Nishi Koga." The man replied, sucking back a long drag on his Lucky's. "You? You look like you'd have some interesting name." He chided, making the best of the situation.

"Ito InuYasha." He replied faintly, disinterested in the conversation. "Where are you headed to?"

Koga reached into the bag as his feet, pulling out a pamphlet. "Let's see," He squinted, "I'm headed to Kagawagi River."

"Likewise." He said dumbly, inhaling a plume of the man's smoke into his lungs. It had been a passing thought, yet he was inclined to reach rudely and pluck a cigarette from the soft pack. Pressing the cotton between his teeth, Koga lit a match and burned the end.

InuYasha instantaneously fell ill as he suppressed a coffee. It tasted like pestilence. It tasted sweet. It tasted like the life he was going to have, as opposed to what was left behind.

"You ready for training?" Koga asked, patting the man briskly on the arm.

"Not particularly." InuYasha rasped darkly, as the train jerked around the bend. The heat was balmy, the last indication of spring filtering through the parted window. It hit his bare face like a lover's hands striking against it. He wanted to jump out and run, but as time dragged on and conversation waxed and waned, he resigned to the evening's mark of arrival.

It was behind the high-rising four acre complex that his spirit would be formed into a unified body, leaving his soul to transcend the earth without flesh to carry it. The establishment was large, concreted by monoliths and courses set behind polished walls.

It felt like walking into a prison.

All of his belongings, along with his new _friend_'s_, _were numbered, checked and assigned by a colored tag. He was red. He was always red. Even as a child, he sought after the color like it was lucky. It made him sigh in relief as he shuffled in the long line of soldiers being prepared for defense.

He couldn't see over the fences, or through the dark windows lining the stoic looking building. Koga was bunking in a near by facility, as his age and starting date varied. All of his life he had wanted more than this. Perhaps it was an old way of thinking, but he had been destined for greatness and shot down by the rotten overtures of songs he didn't sing. Fate was only half of the battle to destiny and his seemed to have been made for him.

Honorably, he would serve proudly and give his breath for whatever task he had at hand. It was unjust that the task was something he didn't choose himself. And when he arrived to a tight quartered room, partitioned by small cots and militant ordained trunks around the feet of the beds, he found his number painted on the wall above.

He was now _19057._

He was curiously complacent as he sat his things down and waited. He was never on a schedule, or had any importance for the concept of time. All he knew was that as the sun began to unfurl a blanket of stars in its wake, he became withering like an old man.

His mismatched eyes hung in the hollow skin like ghosts looming in the dark. InuYasha was tired, distraught. His transformation was only comparable to a child's toes touching the foamy edges of the ocean, in which he was a drop. Nothing he did was his anymore. No choice. No idea. No life. It belonged to his Emporer, his country, his comrades.

The next few months of training would become him and he it. Closing his eyes, InuYasha lolled his head back against the wall, listening to the sounds of footsteps and excited men chanting and cheering for their country. Whatever plagued him would be swiftly removed, just like enemy forces.

The wolves are ravenous when they have yet to be fed.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Saria Forest14. Haha. I know right? I've always written him like that. I think it's because I have such a facisnation with heterochromia. I have central which is pretty cool, but it would be neat to have two completely different colored eyes. I never know what color I wanted to use for him, so I use both. Hehe. I'm really upset I did that to his hair, too. I knew that it would HAVE to happen, but at some point I would like to let him have it back to an extent. Thank you! War, in itself, is such an interesting concept for people that haven't personally gone through it. It's one of those things that people always want to know more about, and I'm enamored with WW2 and Post War Eras. Sorry for the novel, girl! Lol. I hope that you like this chapter!

Lady with a name: Thank you so much! Don't feel bad, I graduated almost ten years ago. I can't believe I just said that. Eek! I was a history buff and I love learning about other countries and Japanese history really is captivating. I hope you enjoy this chapter as it's the catalyst. :D

pickles234: Thank you so much, also! I'm not going to leave it! I'm going to finish everything (eventually haha). This chapter is a little longer. Oh, AND thank you for your sweet review on Wolves! I appreciate that very much and am very happy that you've enjoyed that piece also!

Happy reading everyone.

`Jiru

The first month drew to a close, leaving behind the warm embrace of the spring. From behind those porcelain walls and cold, wooden floors, there was none left to the imagination. InuYasha had seen far more nudity than he had in his entire life - as humilation became normalcy for those who had shamed and failed.

Some boys died, others abruptly shot by corrupt forces, misusing their _belevolence _as a weapon itself. Each man held on to the hope of pleasing their sergeants, keeping their eyes full of want and vigor for the marching campaign over the country. It was an endurance test that so far, had been befitting of the small town boys, still stuck on their farms and old ways of craftsmanship.

InuYasha had been lucky enough to hide his hair beneath his cap, pulling it tight against his scalp as it grew. He had grown comparable to Koga in strength and fortitude, leaving him his only real equal. Being on different sides of the unit meant that they would eventually have to fight for ranking and position.

The boy was ready to go home, regardless. He longed for the days of sleeping in, should he chose, and eating fresh river fish. Instead, he was given a small brick-like dinner. It was the same every week. Occasionally, as a treat for those gold-starred men, they would receive a night to test the town and eat the feasts that were provided for generals and the high-ranking officials of the Empire. Of course, as his leaner stomach rumbled, he stared down and the galley table.

Dinner was in a brown package. It was a ration night. Rice, dried noodle, and some sort of fermented protein - if he was lucky.

Sighing, he parted his box and ran a sweaty palm over his face. Summer was beginning to set in and the rain made the interior of the hall feel like a swamp. There were no fans, no windows parted for freshness. It feel like an imprisonment camp. Half of them looked malnourished from the strains of training, whereas the others looked about as ripe as the tomatoes growing in the window box garden.

With a sigh, InuYasha tipped his cup of water down, soiling the packaged meal. It plumped and he forced the bland meal down. He was bitterly reminded he should be gracious enough to thank his gods for even having a meal in this strife. Yet, as he pushed his food aside, he scowled at the water ring on the tabletop.

The boy sitting across from him looked ravenous - still hungry from his day of struggling with firearms and bayonettes. He was clumsy, even younger than the rest. Maybe 17, at best? His round cheeks still hung like jowls on a well fed dog. He'd come from money, and was better suited for life in a shop, rather than this godforsaken convent.

InuYasha's thick, dark brow arch as his lip inadvertently curled. He merely slid the rest of his portion across the table, meeting bright brown eyes in thanks. The boy seemed overly delighted as he inhaled what was left and bowed his head ever so slightly.

Narrowing his eyes, InuYasha read his name tag and number. The Hojo kid didn't stand a chance. Hell, he, himself, barely did. He was still a tall, lanky limbed man. He was filling out in his arms and legs from the excercise. His shoulders were broader, pulling his small uniform at the seams.

He felt ever so paranoid in the binds of these clothes. They would be spared an evening in whatever they saw fit, and dressed in kimono and hakama, if they so chose - or Western clothing if they had had the money.

A few of the men chose to hang around the showers nude, barely wrapped in towels. InuYasha, himself, sat alone outside in the fresher air. He never took those nights for granted. He was trapped, contained beyond the life of a caged bird.

Every now and then, upon the cooler nights, when the wind draped its soothing arms down from the north, he would whittle small figures along his window-sill. Kikyo came to mind quite often, and had he been fighting for _her_, this would have made sense.

He fought for his country. He fought for no personal reason like most of these men. Mothers to make proud had been the second number in rank, behind the Great Showa. InuYasha had lied in conversation, boasting his rapturous desire to please his officials and make their homeland the greatest nation in the world.

Perhaps it was the benefit of having an eloquent and reknowned father, but he had weaseled his way to the better graces of his officers and comrades. They looked up to him, reverred his excellence in these dire times. Yet, the man only breathed when he was alone. His eyes shown emptily as he stared at the reflection in the bathroom as he was forced to shave his stubble. His cheeks were sharper, more masculine and worn than before.

Whoever said that this life was grandoise had been a liar. Liars never made for good company, now did they? And yet, by the end of the second month, he had built himself a prized collection of knick-knacks from bets and a shined pair of boots as the result of an injurious marking in the archery contest they had held in down-time.

He had no use for any of the morsels of their lives he'd won. He held them in his trunk as keepsakes for when and if they had all survived. Seeing something as simple as a photo of their wives, still dressed beautifully, or bare, was a gift they would surely treasure upon their return.

Hell, even old paddles and folded patchworks were worth more than all the paper and coin in the country for that matter.

InuYasha could barely ready himself for the outside world. It was becoming harder to ignore the dismissal and he outwardly expressed a feigned enthusiasm upon each day. Koga had been granted persmission to discuss ranking with those that had lesser skills and seemingly took it upon himself - and his newfound cocky demeanor - that InuYasha was among them.

The third month was full of trials, separation and sufferage from the obstacle courses. He had slowed his pacing, lost several praises and was caught hiding his shaggy hair. That august ate him alive. He was forced down infront of a mirror, staring himself humbly in the eye.

His issued cap ripped from his head and his peers snickered as his misfortune. A man held his hair in his fist, clenching to the roots as he pulled out a razor. Clenching his jaw, InuYasha watched as he wrung it around his fingers, resting the razor on the fine black hair, which had become peppered with gray.

If he had been less of a man, he would have cried as his hair was once again stripped from his scalp. He breathed slowly, dilberately, as he watched it fall beside his bayonette on the cement bathroom floor.

Koga smoked a cigarette, shaking his head and walked away. He had given up trying to keep his own length and dismissed the idea of retrival. When the man was done, he held a handful in his fingers in disgust. "There is no man that shall have a reminder of the older days. Those days, as sacred as they are to this Empire, bear no semblance to the enemy's cold hands. They will scalp you, take your heathen hair and mount it." He spat, narrowing beady eyes at him.

Had InuYasha felt the need to snap, he would have barked his opinion like a mongrel. He lost the rank of white uniform and was soon sent back to the navy colored fatigues. He was not to wear a cap and was lucky his head was not shaved.

Such insolence over hair meant that any other mistake, or want would have him imprisoned, or tortured until he was responsive. The difference between humane treatment and a war ravaged commander was about as far as East from West.

The integration of the two was causing neurosis. There were no more ups and downs in the display. After it was all said and done, and he vomited daily after training, he was about as ready as he would ever be. He still excelled in hand to hand combat, breaking fingers and wrists of his opponents. Most people feared his reaction timing and skirted away shamefully.

He and Koga had a few rounds before it negated purpose. They were both stubborn, hard-headed and relentless. It was almost a spectacle to see both men struggle, bare-backed and bedraggled from pooling sweat. InuYasha was more toned, strengthened by the few months. He could just about take the bastard down.

The Hojo boy hadn't faired well and ended up with a busted lip and broken femur. He was deemed useless and sent to a desk in the office. Lucky bastard only had a few things to worry about until he healed, and it sickened the rest of them.

Over the last few months, which bled into the tawny autumnal equinox, left him a shell. Everyday of blinding training left him less and less aware of the man he was. Mantras were instilled, and his vision blurred with an astute, spellbound rage to foreign policy and injust portrayal of their home. Months, where most had at least a year before enlistment, were ticking like a clock.

The time for the campaign had come. His youthful eyes were complacent with his brainwashed facade and settled in his broken state to the midst of a line. Flags held high, he steeled himself with his boots polished and single-filed behind the other.

The soothing chill of the fall grasped at their skin, climbing into their flushed pores. It was a relief to the nerves that shook at their bones and made their hearts palpitate. The city-folk all stood in abundance at the parade. Some people he knew, like the old codger from the weapon repair department, was waving a shaky hand, flag wound within his wiry fingers. Women, young, old, the men that were no longer able bodied watched with gloriousness radiating from their faces.

Little did InuYasha know then, that _everyone _was accountable. Men, women, the eldery, and children could all be eaten by the starved wardogs. The voracity still had held its breath, not blowing him down to see what rested below the celebratory facade of war.

It was dirty, infectious, ravenous.

These pressed uniforms and stern expressions of suppressed elation were fallacious as their commanding officer directed them onward. They could speak to one another in hushed tone, and InuYasha was privy to speak to Koga as he strategically swapped position to stand next to him.

Holding his flag, InuYasha smirked at his opponent. "So, what you do think this will be like?" He asked half-heartedly as the pardition manuevered through the older flagstoned streets. Shop owners and pedestrians all stood in compliance. Some of the eager individuals were restrained as they spouted off curses to the Imperialists and the lie of salvaging this country.

Koga flashed his bright eyes with a delight reaching deep within them. He appeared to be more of a child in that moment, that InuYasha had ever seen. There was that lustful gaze that only lovers knew heavy on his face. "I'm ready to tear apart some of those bastards. It'd do me some good to do right by Showa, myself, you and everyone else here." He said stoutly, shivering as he clutched to his bayonette. "If I had a woman, I would have loved her hard and made her the happiest woman when I returned."

InuYasha bit his chapped lip, inhaling lingering bonfire smoke as it charred the air. The sun cascaded down the valleys of his face, illuminating the worrying tributaries that hardened his cheeks. "I had a woman to make proud, but all I got is my father and brother. They didn't think this day would come without me being held at gunpoint. I'm ready to see what all the fuss about."

Koga furrowed his thick brows, leaning over slightly. "You seemed so sure before. You chicken shit?" He chided, teeth clenched in a wily, partial smile.

"I was a swordsman. I'm not a gunman. I'm willing to succeed at whatever my task may be, but I sure as hell ain't dyin'," He was crass, inhaling the nape of his neck with the sharpness of his breath. They were ready to walk for days to their destination. They would see first hand the tribulations of being victimized by famine and disease with no hope looming around the corner.

Was that supposed to be a proud moment? Not being able to help those suffering would uhrtmore than any bullet wound. He'd taken several sharp blades to his body in his youth and he'd lived and forgotten their pains. The scars - no.

Koga rolled his eyes and glanced at the Hojo boy riding his assigned bicycle, carrying rations in a cart behind him. Part of him pitied the boy and knew just as well as InuYasha that he wouldn't survive. Hell, most of them wouldn't. InuYasha was lucky he was daft, quick on his feet and could climb to safety.

The further they became entrenched into the countryside, the more subdued the splendor of their campaign became. Koga was the first to notice the fires, the bodies piled on carts as they spoiled in the fields behind the decimated houses. InuYasha outwardly - with such cowardess - cringed at the abandoned, ragged dolls made by mothers for their daughters, that rested along the roadside.

Most of the commotion had stilled and just absorbed the stench, the whimsy of the wind carrying pestilence and the sounds of yelling in the distance. Overhead, they all watched as the warplane churned like thundrous steads across the cloudless atmosphere.

Keeping his eyes pinned to the ground, InuYasha could no longer house the nausea building inside of the pits of his stomach. It bubbled to a head. And, like many before him, he cupped his hand as it spilled from his mouth.

Koga coughed loudly to distract attention and stole a cup of water from a nearby soldier. The greenery was dead, left behind pools of vomit and black burn marks and ammunition shells. This was a quiet zone today, but what would happen should the warzone parameters refocus on this already destroyed suburb?

They would all be dead if a bomb was dropped.

The anxiety slowly set it in over the first few days, as it had become more apparent that this was a death march. A few of the thousand soldiers recruited were already shipped back in urns. They had marched and waved and laughed with local men and women still standing. They took time to rebuild make-shift shelters and learned about the world changing.

It was overwhelming by the time they reached their destination in Kyoto some days later. InuYasha was ready for the three day break before dismissal, where they could experience normality one last time.

The militants there were gracious, very knowledgable in their trades. The city itself was booming with the teahouses and painted artisans exposing their collars like a flower's petals blooming in thrush.

Being around men for months had only lead to more desire for women. It was fit that they had stopped by the fabled district of Gion, where most geisha worked as comfort women and reserve for either side of the war. They all seemed painfully plain in comparision to the finely clothed beauties of prewar decade.

It was like a maze. Each indention held secret worlds and different faces that held stories that none of the men would ever know. They were the best business the older owners had had in some time. It was a cherished event to many and a spectacle by those that couldn't afford such comforts and company.

Yet, as InuYasha stepped outside of the madhouse for a few moments of peace. The crispness in the air brushed its soft hands over his flushed skin and stole the warmth in his lungs. He had closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the comfort of his dark hakama. He leaned against a lamp pole outside of the establishment and crossed his arms over his chest, clenching his cigarette between his teeth.

His body was already sore, aching for a hot bath and days of sleep. This freedom was a gift and he would no be one to waste it. All of his belongings rested in the newest camp, where he would train for another few days before he was shipped off to the coastline.

A hand ruffled his short hair. He'd gotten used to it, and still found it distasteful. They took everything that identified you and replaced it with the face of an Empire. What he'd seen over the past few days was enough to make him question his own will. How would handle seeing people being slaughtered? How would he handle finding a child? A woman? Anyone? What if he was captured? What if his comrades were captured? What if he failed? What if rang so loudly in his ears that he could barely see straight when he reopened his eyes.

Even the stars seemed blinded by the heinous outlook, as they hung like puncture wounds to an injured night. The moon loomed behind the stretches of graying clouds and he could no longer enjoy those lazy nights on the grassy hollows in the paddy field.

Sighing, he lit another cigarette as a pretentious crescendo of laughter billowed from the district. Surely, all of the men had found their women and entertained the idea of settling for the lower prices of the _panpan_ girls and their Western panties.

It was shortly after he had flicked his smoke on the damp ground, that he began his journey around the streets. The flagstone all glistened with the remnants of a cool shower that drizzled in the early evening. It felt good to watch the lights blur like souls on a skyline. They all seemed to lead him down a winding alley of sloped rooftops and ghostly dark of rickshaw cart shadows.

There were a few torii gates guarding the nearby temples, and priests sweeping their shrines. It was places like this that made him forget the decay he had seen. He thought if his mother growing up in the outskirts of the city, brandished in ornate kimono and fine combs pinned in her hair. She had been of wealth and gave it away for his father.

Kikyo had done much of the same. She was still far more noble than he upon her death. After all this time, he still missed her and longed for her touch. Maybe it was just the touch of a woman he craved, but none of the ones presented.

Unlike the other men, who still had perfectly fine wives and lovers at home, he chose to enjoy things alone instead of the company of hired entertainment - whatever the affixed transaction may be.

Nearing the edge of the street, there was a ceremonial garden. It still housed a plush growth of autumnal flora and equally as curious fauna. The trees were all withered, black silhouettes with fiery heads that wept the death of the summer.

Albeit, there was probably more to their grieving than just a season. Quietly, he walked into the stoned gate and meandered through the ponding and mossy overgrowth still clinging to the empty koi sanctuary.

There hadn't been a soul near this place since the war - it seemed like to him, anyway. Everything was untouched by the radiation, or plagues or unearthed bodies. It was something that he would remember through his trails, surely.

He'd brushed his calloused fingers over the smooth treetrunk, feeling the grit in the bark as it knotted and disbanded. To simply touch the natural parts of the world had been such a drastic change to the white walls and metal utensils that his palms had become accustom.

A melancholy smile draped over his features, pulling his thick brows into a centered point. He could hear his breathing here, feel his heart thrum. He was alive. He was his own person here. Easily, he reached down and grabbed a dislodged tree branch and held it between his hands. It was damp, cold and abrasive beneath his pads as he swished it from side to side like a child.

Looking over his shoulder, he found a few women floating on their geta and bundled in cheaply made rationed coats. They had probably been fine geisha, still attuned to their old ways of life. They paid him no heed as he steadied his stance and manuevered the branch as he had done to his old sword - his father's sword - his granfather's before that.

He was nimble, so very centered in this release. Modern guns were disconnected. If a man wanted to defend himself, why not defend the body and soul behind it? There's more personal forms of combat than what was being presented. And yes, generals could still use their katana as issued, but it was still a saddening affair.

InuYasha had bristled with the protrusion for a while, until he felt the shuddering wind cry for his attention as it howled in from the North. His haori was that of paper-like material and none brave enough to face the cold.

He had almost exited the garden when he heard the patter of bare footsteps beating over the wet pavement. Furrowing his brows, he leaned behind one of the maples and peered curiously around the corner. His breath was housed tightly in his lungs, as he tried to keep in a hoarse cough.

Soon, a woman came barreling down the crooked mouth of Gion. She was panting, eyes reflecting the low glow of the street lamps as her pale skin turned golden. The girl was clutchig her heart, struggling against the striped hakama on her legs.

Obviously, she as frightened. She'd lost her shoes and the ribbon, tying back her long hair, unfurled and was long in her wake. She stopped only a moment to catch her breath before the enforcement came on their cycles behind her.

It seemed, without thinking, she ran into the secluded garden. Her heart hung on her sleeve, exposing the bloody puckers of flush mottling her skin. Frantically, he watched her reach into the breast of her fitted haori and removed a box, tossing it into the koi pond.

Looking around, she held her breath and lunged in after. The local city enforcement followed assumed that they had followed her with their dog as InuYasha lit a cigarette. There was a tall dark headed man, pale as the moon with beady dark eyes and braided hair tucked into the collar of his uniform.

InuYasha nodded as they passed, dressed in their navies and reds. "Did you happen to see a disobidient woman running by here? She has done something that will have her throw to the gallows. We need to find her, so please I beg for your assistence."

InuYasha smirked in amusement. "All this trouble over a woman? I'm sure that there are plenty in this city that have their fair share of disobidience." He snickered, sucking back a drag as he waved an arm at the empty space.

All he could think of was the girl drowning herself in the acidic pond.

The officer glowered, pointing him with a baton. "Who in the hell are you to be so direspectful?"

"Ito InuYasha." He replied, pulling his papers from his haori. "I'm a soldier for the Empire."

It was almost a saving grace to have those papers. Any man fighting for the country seemed befit of royal treatment, even if they, themselves were of a shoddy nature.

"Pardons." The officer seethed beneath his breath. "If you _do _chance upon the wench, please directly give her to me. She will be tried in the prisons."

"I will do that," InuYasha quipped, lingering over the nametag plated and sewn into the uniform sleeve. "Nishimoto-san."

"Nishimoto Naraku of Gion Prefecture 77717." The man replied sternly as he waved to a short, plump man that had followed with their guard dog. He shot a wayward glance over his shoulder as he waved in the Eastern direction of the city.

The moment the were gone, InuYasha threw out his cigarette and dropped to the wet embankment, thrusting his arm to the hilt into the water. He searched wildly, holding onto the stone mouth for stability. He felt her hair and grabbed on as a struggling hand fought for his. Bracing himself, he leaned back on his haunches, pulling her small frame from the pond.

Her clothes were heavy, ladden with the saturation that bedraggled them. She shudder as her breath became a ghost on the wind as she struggled to absorb oxygen. Her lips were bluing, her skin sickly and cold upon simple touch.

InuYasha blindly tore off his haori and tossed it around her. Sitting bare chested in the cold night, he brushed her web of stringy hair from her face and gripped her chin until she looked at him. Her eyes caught him off guard and he grinned. "Odd looking thing aren't you? I bet you're not hard to pick out." He teased, finding her chattering teeth unnerving.

She still clung to the box in her hand and quivered as her fingers struggled to hold on. He didn't dare try to take it, but he wondered why it was such of great importance. She couldn't have been a day over sixteen - but a child.

"Are you alright?" He rasped, finding her eyes hidden behind the curls of her lashes.

After a few moments, she was still silent and he huffed. They hadn't been kidding. She was about as brattish as could be. All things considered, he knew she wouldn't talk. "Listen," He said calmly as he could, finally looking her in the eye.

The girl lowered her head, finding some warmth his clothing. "You're not hard to find, either, I take it." She said, pointing a shaky finger at the tawny rings.

"Fair enough. Wanna tell me why you're getting chased down like a criminal?" His eyes were immediately drawn to the small lacquered box in her hands and he scowled. "Are you a thief?"

The woman narrowed her eyes and leaned back until he could see the curvatures of her face. She was a pretty little thing - beautiful at that. "You'll sell me for rations and a warm bed." She snapped, eagerly keeping her tone as quiet as possible.

InuYasha rolled his eyes, ruffling the back of his hair as he had done all his life. "I ain't saying shit. I don't live here and I'm being shipped off in two days, so you'll never hear hide nor see a hair."

The woman recoiled. "There is no winning this war. I wouldn't allow my family to be subjected to anymore sufferage. Is it wrong that I took what needed to be protected and placed it somewhere safe?"

"You're in for more than you know. I'd just that you find your way to them before someone else finds you."

"Why are you understanding? You're too dumb to know what that means." She hissed.

"Why would you even tell me, then? Are you hoping to be caught, tortured, among all of those other things by helping able bodies flee the country?"

"Maybe I want to die before I am put into a comfort zone. I don't want to end up like my mother and my brother and grandfather will not go into a battle with a death warrant - honor or none." She said with vehemence. "It's all over your face that you weren't prepared for uprooting."

"And you can tell that by the look on my face?" InuYasha bit, having his pride prodded was something that he found unjust. "Listen bitch, I can take you to the officials if you want, but I was trying to save you."

"Why? Because I'm a pitingly woman?"

"No." He retorted, reaching for a cigarette out of the pocket fold of his haori. The girl flinched at the contact, but he relaxed her spine as she found his intentions. "Because I don't find death, or any of those things that could happen to you pleasant. I would have given anyone the chance to run. I haven't gone to war, and that may change, but as long as I think for myself, then I will do what I feel is just."

The woman's silvery eyes flickered over him precariously. Her nerves were itching against her skin and she prayed he would let her go. She had been running for weeks. There had been only a few chances to flee to Manchuria, and she hadn't been lucky enough. It was back and forth between the edge of the earth and the center trying to escape. Every lead was a lie now. It was every man in disagreance for himself at this juncture in the war.

"What's your price?" She asked, steeling herself for whatever answer he may give.

Amused, InuYasha leaned forward and found the fearful expression writing a story along her face. His calloused hand brushed her hair away from her eyes and ran down to her shoulder.

"I do not want want anything other than to live my own life. I do not want from you." He said, finding her confused and brightly relieved. "Whatever you think I will do, I won't."

"At least you have some diginity to salvage part of your humanity. The things that I've gone through are written in books about used women." Her voice flittered, clutching her box to her midsection like she would a child.

InuYasha felt pity for her. "What's your name?"

The girl looked at him incredulously. Turning away, she inhaled her first strong breath, "Kagome."


End file.
